


In the Absence of Grapes, Remember the Ketchup

by ncruuk



Series: Behind the Beret - being Bernie [5]
Category: Holby City
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-22
Updated: 2016-06-22
Packaged: 2018-07-16 12:40:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 16,405
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7268632
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ncruuk/pseuds/ncruuk
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sequel to 'Unconsciously Brilliant, Consciously Calm' in which Alex naps and chats her way through waiting for Bernie to take her home.  In the process she kisses the girl, acquires a nickname and gets the t-shirt... not necessarily in that order!</p><p>[An immediate sequel/follow-on story to 'Unconsciously Brilliant, Consciously Calm', it will make much more sense if you have read the other stories which establish the 'headcanon' this story is building on.]</p>
            </blockquote>





	In the Absence of Grapes, Remember the Ketchup

**Author's Note:**

> I am neither a soldier or a medic, but have tried to create a story which is readable and plausible, based on my research for this particular story and years of general interest/reading. However, if there's anything that is hideously wrong and detracting from the overall read, please let me know.
> 
> Thank you for reading, I hope you enjoy...

“Fletch?”

  
“Yes Dr D?” He’d started calling her that when he had come to get her for her previous scan, the second one she’d had since waking up.  When he was still calling her that when it had been time to set off for what she was hoping would be her final scan, she’d given in and accepted that she now had a Holby nickname.

 

“Do you know what happened to my clothes?”  Alex looked down at her lap, which was full of the scrunched up bottom of the hospital gown she still wore, although her dignity was at least being protected by some scrub trousers that Fletch had brought her when he’d got permission from Serena to take Alex up for this hopefully final scan in a wheelchair rather than a trolley.

 

“Your bottom half stuff is in AAU, with your door key and money, but your top half stuff…” The arrival of the lift saved Fletch from having to finish his explanation, not sure how well she’d take being told that her t-shirt and sports bra were cut through by ED when she arrived.

 

“Has Bern got a locker?” Alex watched the lift doors close, pleased that they had the lift to themselves, finding it all a bit disconcerting being the patient rather than the doctor.

 

“Ms Wolfe?”  Fletch came around to the side of the wheelchair, so he was in Alex’s eyeline rather than looming over her from behind.  “Yeah...but it will be locked.”

 

“With a combination lock, I know.”  And the code was 2806, Alex’s birthday.

 

“Raiding mission?” Fletch moved behind the wheelchair again, ready to gently ease Alex out of the lift when they arrived back on AAU’s floor.  “I can find you some scrubs…”

 

“Raiding mission first?” Scrubs would be better than her running shorts, and it was unlikely that Bernie would have any spare trousers that Alex would find comfortable for a few hours, but a t-shirt would be good.

 

“You got it Dr D.”  The lift doors opened and, before anyone could think about charging in, Fletch was already calling out to tell them to wait until he’d got out with a patient, before turning away from the AAU entrance and heading for the staff locker room.

 

* * *

  
  


“You can ask.”

 

“Ask what?”  Fletch stood next to Alex, ready to help her if she was struggling at all as she stood in front of Bernie’s locker, eying up the haphazardly stuffed contents to first work out what random assortment of possessions Bernie had accumulated at work and then decide what was best raided.

 

“Whatever it is that’s making you hum the Dambusters theme.”  It had taken Alex a couple of minutes to work out that the almost tuneful buzzing she could hear was not a symptom of her head injury but being generated by Fletch.  “Because unless you ask, I can’t decide whether or not to answer.”  Considering she’d been unconscious for most of the day so far, she was quite pleased with her ability to reason with the nurse.

 

“Ah, sorry.”  Fletch cleared his throat, having not realised he was humming.  “I...nah.”  He lost his nerve.

 

“Go on…”  Alex steadied herself by holding onto the metal shelf in Bernie’s locker and turned to look at him.  “...I’m pretty certain it won’t be the weirdest question I’ve ever been asked.  And no, that’s not an invitation.”  That was a competition that was won hands down by her brother, who was so undisputed a champion she was no longer running the competition - for one thing, should anyone ever trump Matty’s questions, he would only see it as an invitation to pry even further into his big sister’s life: that she was an officer to boot was an even bigger bonus was far as he was concerned.

 

“You’ve got a kid…”

 

“Excuse me?”  Alex looked at him and wondered if he’d been sampling some of the more interesting drugs and gases they had in AAU.

 

“Named after you… a little ‘un.  I met her, few months back.”

 

“Which one?” 

 

“Uh…” That wasn’t quite what Fletch had expected to be her response.  “Her Dad didn’t make it?  Uncle did but blinded and…” Fletch gestured vaguely in the direction of his right forearm.

 

“Jonny…” Alex shut her eyes as she tried to reach into the depths of her memory for anything else that she could remember about the patient that Fletch was talking about.  “...nope, can’t remember his name…” Bernie was much better at remembering their full names and ranks as well as their faces.  “But I know who you mean.”  She opened her eyes again and took a moment to adjust to the bright light of the locker room again, before resuming her inspection of the chaos that was Bernie’s locker.

 

“She was brilliant with him, Ms Wolfe I mean, without her...” Fletch ran his hand over his head as he remembered how close they’d been to calling Security and doing the wrong thing.

 

“He was a patient?” Alex was only half paying attention to him, finding trying to look at the bottom half of Bernie’s locker rather more than her head was prepared to tolerate.

 

“His sister was, he was with her and holding her kid.  We, ah, weren’t doing a particularly great job of keeping him calm, but Ms Wolfe went all ‘Major Wolfe’ on him.”  Alex smiled when she heard his description of Bernie.  “No disrespect meant like…”

 

“None taken.  I know what you mean.”  Alex knew he was probably talking about the most obvious difference between the civilian and military world - the language they used.

 

“It weren’t just the words she used…” continued Fletch, unconsciously following Alex’s train of thought, “...like the ranks and stuff, but her attitude.  She understood what he’d been through…”  Frustrated that he’d started something he didn’t really know how to articulate and finish, Fletch trailed off as he tried to think of how he might say what he wanted to say.

 

“Like she’d been there?” suggested Alex dryly, deciding that she’d had quite enough of standing and so concentrated on carefully sitting down in it, knowing what she wanted to borrow from Bernie now.

 

“Yeah, no, I mean…” Embarrassed, Fletch met Alex’s gaze, wishing he’d never started this conversation, only to discover she looked more amused than angry.

 

“Despite what most of the hospital probably thought, she does actually have a bedside manner,” explained Alex, deciding she’d take him out of his self-imposed misery, not least because she was starting to feel her little excursion taking its toll on her.  “But she comes from a different world to all of this.”

 

“So do you.”

 

“Have a bedside manner?”

 

“Funny.”  He pulled a face at her as he spoke, although he was relieved she was keeping her humour and somehow knowing what he was talking about, despite his lousy attempt at explaining himself and his timing.  “Look, I should get you back to AAU…”

 

“Wait.”  Alex held up her hand, keeping him away from the wheelchair, not wanting to have him behind her when she continued speaking.  “You know that she was injured when we were both in a vehicle hit by an IED?  But I had no injuries?”

 

“Yes.”

 

“That was the second time I’d walked away from an IED hit vehicle.  Did you know that?”

 

“No.”  Fletch swallowed, his throat feeling dry and tight, not quite sure where Alex’s train of thought was taking them.

 

“She still feels guilty about the driver… she recognised him, on the table, as being my driver that day.”

 

“Did he make it?”

 

“No.  She tried everything she could, but sometimes…”  Alex bit her lip, hard, trying to focus on the sharp sensation it created to stop the moisture in her eyes forming into actual tears.  

 

“For all the ones we save, there’s still the ones we just can’t.”  Fletch knew that part of what made a trauma surgeon special, even amongst surgeons, was their convictions that they could save the patient despite overwhelming odds, but it was conviction balanced against a realism that not everyone would be saved.  There were still going to be some patients for whom it just wouldn’t be enough.

 

“Reading his file, anyone could see that he’d been injured too badly, that he wouldn’t have survived his injuries, but not her.  Not that patient, because she feels she missed things, wasn’t her best.”  Alex took a steadying breath.  “Because she was worrying about me.  She feels guilty because she wasn’t focussed.”

 

“Everyone loses focus occasionally, it’s understandable really.”

 

“Not to her.”  Alex reached out and pulled on the hem of what she knew was a clean RAMC t-shirt, resting on top of a neat pile of clean t-shirts that were sitting haphazardly on top of a rucksack that contained spare trainers, socks, underwear and wash kit (Bernie was predictable in her chaos).  In pulling the t-shirt out, she dislodged the Holby NHS Trust grey hooded sweatshirt and an ‘old-fashioned’ Doctor’s white coat.  Pulling the three garments into her lap, Alex kept the t-shirt and sweatshirt before tossing the white coat back into the locker.  “It was easy to not understand what was outside the wire.  Even easier if you were her…” Alex turned to look at Fletch, seeing his look of confusion.  “Outside the wire was what everyone called the other side of the Base perimeter - the outside, the world on the other side of the wire fence.”

 

“But you went out?”

 

“Yes.”  Alex shut Bernie’s locker door, starting to lose the battle with her exhaustion.  “But that was expected - I was MERT trained.”  Fletch watched her clamp the combination lock shut and turn the dial so it stayed locked, having no clue what MERT was but deciding he could find out later.  “She didn’t have to but did, always has apparently.”  Alex sat back in the wheelchair, ready to head back to AAU, thinking a nap would be quite a good idea, even if she did have to be continually woken up for obs checks.  “She needed to understand.  Understanding gives focus.”  Alex’s smile, which had started to show her tiredness, became wry.  “She used to say that it was only once you understood what it took for a patient to back to us in the operating theatre from outside the wire that you could understand determination.  And there was no room in her theatre for anyone who was less determined than the patient.”

 

“Yeah, we got that…” Fletch moved around the wheelchair and took the brakes off, preparing to wheel Alex back to AAU, “but it took a bit longer than some of us are proud of.”

 

“Six,” said Alex suddenly as they approached the locker room door.

 

“What’s six?”  As he spoke, Fletch opened the door before catching it with his foot so that he could wheel Alex through without being bashed.

 

“Kids.  Named after me.”  Finding her head rather heavy and a bit throbby, she reached up and propped her head on her hand, her elbow resting on the wheelchair’s armrest, her other arm carefully holding her pilfered clothes in her lap.

 

“That’s a lot, half a football team.”

 

“Bern’s got loads…”  Alex was in danger of nodding off, but kept talking, although Fletch was having to strain to hear her, “...whole team ‘n’ subs…”

 

* * *

  
  


“You’re not a nurse…”

 

“Well spotted.”  Bernie studied Alex’s face, taking in the dark smudges under her eyes that spoke of a sleep-deprived Exercise weekend, never mind the fatigue her accident and ‘thump on the head’ was no doubt causing.

 

“You’ve changed…” Alex tried to push herself up the bed a little bit more, so she was sitting up a bit more comfortably than she had been, having clearly slumped down during her most recent nap.  “..into scrubs,” she added, grateful when Bernie leaned forwards and held the pillow still so it wouldn’t slide down her back as she shifted.  “Thanks.”

 

“I’m operating…” Bernie occupied herself with straightening the blanket over Alex’s lap for a moment, subconsciously giving her the opportunity to get cross with her, like she’d discovered Marcus did, only to remember this wasn’t then, wasn’t him, but was Alex.  “...with Raf and what feels like half the hospital.”

 

“The girl?”  Alex was struggling a bit with knowing what time it was, having understandably lost total track of where she was in the day whilst she was unconscious.  The frequent naps weren’t helping her get back on track with time, but it didn’t matter - the doctor in her knew that sleep was what her body needed as long as it wasn’t at the expense of appropriate monitoring for complications; the girlfriend in her knew that time was irrelevant - she’d go home when Bernie was able to take her home, whatever time it was.

 

“The girl.”  Now the patient was stable enough to transfer to theatre and a surgical plan had been put together that saw the trauma surgeons of AAU leading the operation, Raf was just finalising the transfer orders and histories and then they would be operating.  Which had just given Bernie five minutes to pop by and see Alex.  “I might be a while…”

 

“I’m here…” Alex frowned slightly, “unless I’m discharged?” she asked, conflicted as to whether she wanted that to be an option or not.  Discharge meant recovering well, but also meant being forced home, without Bernie.

 

“Act surprised when Serena tells you,” teased Bernie, having had a sneaky glance at Alex’s latest scan and seen that it was still all clear.  “But you can stay, if you want?” Bernie felt Alex’s fingers squeeze her own and correctly interpreted this as agreement.  “Fletch said you can stay here until it’s needed, then there’s my side of the office or he can probably find a call room somewhere…” Clinically, Bernie knew Alex wouldn’t be discharged unless she was well on the way to recovery, but emotionally she was much more comfortable with the idea of Alex waiting for her in the AAU Consultant’s office where Fletch had promised he could ‘keep an eye out for Dr D.’

 

“Your office…” Anything else Alex might have been planning to say disappeared into a yawn that made Bernie smile.  “I’m not cute,” grumbled Alex, knowing what the surgeon was thinking.

 

“Loveable.”  Bernie leaned in and gently kissed her lover, “sleepy and loveable,” she continued, claiming another kiss.  “I was going to suggest you borrowed a shirt…” Bernie looked over at the chair which she’d declined to sit on, meaning the neat heap of trainers, shorts, scrubs, Holby sweatshirt and RAMC t-shirt was still where Fletch had left it. “...but you’ve already found my locker.”

 

“Mmm…” Alex was actively fighting going back to sleep, but it was a battle she wasn’t going to win for very much longer.

 

“Go to sleep Al…” encouraged Bernie,  “...I’ll come find you when I’m done in theatre.”

 

“Lo’vu…” muttered Alex, her words slurring into a sleepy mumble as, permission granted, she’d obediently drifted off to sleep again, her desire to snooze now as much a product of heading straight from her duty period with the flying hospital to the weekend’s Reserves Exercise as it was from the head trauma.

 

“I love you too…” whispered Bernie when, seeing Alex was asleep, she took a moment to tuck the blanket more comfortably around her lover’s hips and arms, covering bare skin so it was protected from the air conditioning’s draught.  Pressing a final kiss to Alex’s forehead, a kiss that was rewarded with an instinctive smile and mumbled ‘Bern’ from her sleeping lover, Bernie forced herself to step away from the bed.  The sooner she operated, the sooner she could take Alex home for a proper rest, together.

 

* * *

  
  
  


“Dr D?”  

 

“I’m awake Fletch…” Alex put aside Bernie’s iPad and looked up at him, “...you need the bed?”

 

“Nah, a favour actually.”  He looked over his shoulder and, presumably not seeing what he didn’t want to see, Alex watched with interest as he stepped closer to the bed.

 

“Go on.”  Alex wasn’t entirely sure she was in much of a position to deliver on favours, but was prepared to listen, especially if it meant she could continue to wait for Bernie using the bed to stretch out on rather than an office chair.

 

“Has Ms Wolfe told you much about Jason?”

 

“Serena’s nephew Jason?”  Alex saw Fletch nod and glance behind him again, presumably checking the coast was clear of either Aunt or nephew.  “I’m aware.”

 

“Would you mind, umm…” he looked nervously over his shoulder again, “...see, the thing is, that is…”

 

“Fletch.”  He was tying himself in knots, and his constant twisting around to check he wasn’t being overhead by either Serena or Jason was making her head hurt in new and different ways.

 

“Yes Dr D?”

 

“I ask questions, you answer yes or no.  Ok?”

 

“Yes Dr D.”  Fletch looked relieved, although he wasn’t yet cured of his insatiable need to keep twisting around.

 

“If I see either Serena or what I think is Jason, I will stretch my arm, but you must stop turning round, you’re making my head hurt.”  Alex consciously tried to sound amused rather than angry whilst she spoke, although she wasn’t sure how successful she was being kind rather than cranky.  “Ok?”

 

“Yes Dr D.”  Judging by his smirk, she was clearly amusing him which probably meant she was coming across as helpfully kind rather than obnoxiously cranky, although she was hardly unjustified in the later.

 

“Is Serena deciding to stay until Bernie’s out of theatre?”

 

“Yes.”

 

“Did she decide to do this without remembering to tell Jason?”

 

“Yes.”

 

“He’s here?”

 

“Yes.  They’re having something to eat in the canteen.”  Fletch leaned against the bed, starting to feel less like AAU was going to explode around him now that Alex was breaking down the series of events that had rapidly occurred in the last twenty minutes or so.

 

“But Jason had arrived with a different plan?”

 

“Yes.”

 

“And Serena waiting out the end of the surgery ruins it?”

 

“Yeah…” Fletch was about to launch into the explanation as to what had been planned, only to catch Alex’s expression changing and remember that he had agreed not to over-explain and there was the small matter of her being unconscious for an extended period of time less than 12 hours ago.  So instead he snapped his mouth shut.

 

“This favour…” Alex tried to remember what Bernie had told her about her first interaction with Jason and, more significantly, her first interaction with Serena about Jason.  “Would it be asking me to be kept company by Jason?”

 

“Sort of…”

 

“Kept company by Jason in such a way that…” Alex tried to think what Fletch might have been struggling to ask her, “...makes Bernie seem the baddie?”

 

“Baddie’s a strong word…” although fairly accurate, and Fletch did have the presence of mind to look sheepish.  “Reason for a change of plan?”

 

“If Jason wants to come say hi, he can do,” negotiated Alex, actually looking forward to meeting the young man who, if Bernie’s descriptions were at all accurate (and she was a frustratingly good sizer-upper of people), was someone Alex sensed both Bernie and she would get along with (the Serena ‘complication’ notwithstanding).  “But I’m her lover.  The best I can do is agree to not criticise Serena.”  Movement behind him caught her attention as two porters hovered, clearly waiting to collect a patient.  “You’re wanted.”  She nodded in the direction of the porters, only to regret the movement as soon as she’d done it as her headache changed gear.

 

“Cheers Dr D.”  She raised her hand slightly in acknowledgment of his agreement with her terms, her eyes already closed as she sank back against the pillow and waited for her head to settle again - she’d forgotten just how different the definition of being well enough to be discharged following a concussion heavy enough to cause prolonged unconsciousness was to actually feeling well.  

 

By the time Fletch had directed the porters to the patient that they were there to transfer to the ward and signed the transport paperwork, she was asleep again.

 

* * *

  
  


“You’re not Bernie.”

 

“Excuse me?”  Alex put the iPad, headphones and the pillow she’d kept with her when she left the cubicle she’d been calling ‘home’ for the last few hours on Bernie’s desk and turned around, slowly, curious to know who was standing in the office doorway.

 

“That’s Bernie’s chair, by Bernie’s desk.  This is Auntie Serena’s office, and you’re not Bernie.”  He leaned forwards and scrutinised her closely.  “You’re not anyone.”  He straightened up and pushed his glasses back up his nose in a precise movement.  “You don’t have a security pass.  Who are you?”

 

“You don’t have a security pass either.”

 

“I came to meet Auntie Serena but she isn’t leaving the hospital.  Are you a doctor?”

 

“You must be Jason.”  Alex concentrated on sitting down, aware that her every movement was being watched.  “And yes, I am a doctor, but I don’t work here.”

 

“I am.  What sort of doctor?  And why are you moving like that?”  Jason came further into the office and sat down on one of the chairs that sat by the wall on Serena’s side of the office.  Bernie, realised Alex, was clearly not supposed to have visitors.

 

“I’m an anaesthetist.”  Alex left him with that piece of information whilst she focussed on getting as comfortably settled in Bernie’s desk chair as she could without resorting to using the pillow, which she was keeping as backup for later.

 

“You shouldn’t be adjusting Bernie’s chair.”

 

“She knows I’m doing it.”  Technically that was perhaps a slight exaggeration and, mindful of who she was talking to, Alex corrected herself.  “She won’t be surprised that I moved it, and won’t mind.”

 

“Why won’t she be surprised? And how do you know she won’t mind?  Auntie Serena was very cross when her chair was wrong.  People are funny about chairs…” Jason’s thoughts petered out as his frown intensified.

 

“I…”  Alex paused, realising that he’d asked a lot of questions and, in attempting to answer them all in one go, she was no doubt going to create lots of new questions that she would need to answer.  “Jason?”

 

“Yes Dr Anaesthetist?”  Jason’s frown relaxed a bit as he looked at her, although his acknowledgment of her question only served to highlight how much information Alex needed to provide, preferably before her headache intensified or she nodded off again.

 

“Can you promise to not ask me any more questions until I’ve finished answering the questions you’ve already asked?  I promise I am going to answer them, I just…”  Alex tried to interpret his body language, but she wasn’t sure if she was struggling because she was just generally struggling with people at the moment or if it was just that she’d only just met him.  “...have to go a bit slowly at the moment.”  She waited, not noticing she was holding her breath whilst she watched his face for any indication of acceptance of her plan, knowing that if he launched into a fresh round of rapid fire questions she was going to have to just start yelling for Fletch to rescue her, which would be a shame as she was already liking Jason.  And she really didn’t think yelling was going to be something her head agreed with.

 

“Ok.”  Jason sat back in the chair and waited for her to start talking: he could keep a promise if she could.

 

“Thank you.”  Alex carefully stretched her shoulders, trying to shift as much of her aching sleepiness as she could as she didn’t want to make a mess of his tentative trust by nodding off on him or snapping.  “My name is Alex Dawson, Fletch calls me Dr D.”  She watched as he absorbed this piece of information, wondering which way he would elect to use.

 

“Hello Dr D.  I’m Jason.”  She watched him open his mouth, clearly about to ask another question, only to recall he had made a promise, so with what was a decidedly cheeky grin, he shut his mouth again and tucked his hands under his knees.

 

“I am an anaesthetist and I used to work with Bernie, before she came to Holby.”  Alex had a brief flash of a memory of Bernie grumbling that as nice as it was for people to not be making an issue about her military career, was it too much to ask for them to get her rank right, if only out of respect for Sergeants.  “In the Army.”  She looked down at the olive green t-shirt she was wearing, under the grey Holby hoodie.  “The Royal Army Medical Corp.  I have known her for five years, and…” she rested her arms on the armrests of Bernie’s desk chair and immediately reached underneath them and moved them up an inch or so so that she could rest her arms on them more easily.  “I have been adjusting her office chairs for most of that time.   She will expect me to have adjusted her chair and won’t be cross.”  Knowing Bernie, she probably wouldn’t notice for a few days, and even when she did notice, she’d probably take another few days to even remember she had a chair she could adjust.

 

“You’re smiling.”

 

“Is that a bad thing?”  Alex hadn’t realised she was smiling until he mentioned it, at which point instincts kicked in and she forced her expression into what she privately thought of as ‘military neutral’ which usually had the unfortunate effect of making Bernie laugh.

 

“You look younger when you smile.  Can I ask questions now please?”

 

“I have one more question to answer, about why I’m here?”

 

“You know Bernie.  You’re waiting for her to finish her operation, like Auntie Serena.”  Jason rubbed his nose, dislodging his glasses in the process which he carefully resettled before continuing.  “And I heard Fletch tell Auntie Serena that ‘Dr D was discharged’ so now I know you’re Dr D I know you are moving extra carefully because you were Auntie Serena’s patient.  And you must be better now.”  He frowned and reviewed what he had said.  “Not well, but better enough that Auntie Serena doesn’t need to keep you.  So you’re waiting for Bernie.  You’re sitting in her chair.”

 

“Fair enough.” As explanations of her current situation went, it wasn’t what she would have elected to say, but if it worked for Jason then she wasn’t going to debate it with him, at least, not without reinforcements and possibly charts, or at least a diagram or two.  “What do you want to know?” Alex tried to relax back into her chair again, grateful for a way of occupying her time that wasn’t as taxing on her eyes as the iPad had been.

 

“What rank are you?”

 

“Captain.”  So far, so simple, and Alex was grateful for simple.

 

“What rank is Bernie?”

 

“Major.”  Alex watched Jason with interest as he clearly found something in her statement that was of interest to him.

 

“Is she not a very good Major then?” Alex blinked - had she not been hosting a Royal Marine Drum Corps in her head, her jaw would have dropped, but blinking was less energy draining and less intrusive to her headache.

 

“Why do you ask that?”  As she asked the question, Alex glanced at the clock on the wall and then the post-it note she’d stuck on the iPad earlier which had the times she could take her next painkillers - still a couple of hours until the next dose.

 

“Because she’s old!”

 

“Who’s old?” 

 

“Hello Auntie Serena.  Bernie.  I’ve met Dr D.  She’s known Bernie for a long time and is a Captain.”

 

“I see.”  Serena looked from Jason to Alex, “quite the Spanish Inquisition you’ve got going on here…”

 

“It’s fine.”  Alex’s interjection was timely - she could see Jason’s expression start to shift in what she was already beginning to realise was a clue that he’d just heard or seen something that was about to trigger a fresh round of questioning.  “We have a bit of an arrangement worked out.”

 

“You do?”  Serena was surprised and looked back at Jason, wondering if he would agree.

 

“Dr D needs to go slowly today.”  Alex found his new condition amusing, but didn’t interrupt him.  “I promised to not ask a new question until she’s finished answering my last one.”

 

“I’m impressed.”  Feeling a bit like she was watching a tennis match with very short points, Serena turned back to look at Alex, only showing her skepticism at this situation when Jason couldn’t see her expression.  “What did you do to get that agreement?”

 

“Ask?” Alex tried to not rise to the ‘bait’ in Serena’s expression, deciding to give the consultant the benefit of the doubt on the basis that they were both far from their best, not to mention that Alex falling out with Serena would not make Bernie’s life easier, especially when Serena seemed to be more at ease with Bernie now than she’d evidently been previously.

 

“And she promised too!”  Both women’s attention was now on Jason, who was seemingly becoming agitated, only for it to be quickly apparent he was actually just trying to find the cloth he used to clean his glasses.

 

“We were talking about Bernie,” volunteered Alex quietly as she watched Jason focus on cleaning his glasses once he’d found his cleaning cloth.  “And it’s fine.”  Alex studied Serena, who before today she’d only met once in the early hours of her first night back from Africa, that strange night when nothing seemed quite real but everything felt right, that night when she and Bernie started to heal.  The consultant was still something of an enigma to her, but Bernie seemed to rate her and had described her as ‘about the closest to a friend’ she’d managed to make amongst the consultants when she first arrived at Holby as staff, even if she had admitted that it was at times hard to find Serena likeable. 

 

“You can stay, if you’ve got the time?” offered Alex, wondering if some of Serena’s reservation was about what she might tell Jason.  ‘Authority’ all too often was confused with ‘power’ which, Alex knew from both civilian and military life, was all too often tied up with knowledge - there wasn’t much Alex could do to to allay any concerns Serena might still have about Bernie disrupting her power and administrative authority in the hospital, but she could at least offer to share her answers to Jason’s questions about Bernie with both Aunt and Nephew.

 

“I…” Serena looked from Jason to Alex and finally, to her desk chair, before privately acknowledging that she probably wasn’t going to get as good an opportunity to find out some things about Bernie as this, especially when she remembered Alex’s declaration that Bernie’s preferred time for introductions was when Bernie herself was absent.  “A few minutes, give the F1s a chance to realise they’re not invincible.”  As Serena stepped around Jason, heading for her desk chair, he finished cleaning his glasses and put them back on, looking at Alex as if they hadn’t been interrupted by Serena.

 

“Why is Bernie only a Major?” Jason looked expectantly at Alex as he continued, so she properly understood his question, “she’s old for a Major, is she not a good officer?”

 

“Jason…” In spite of this not being her conversation, and forgetting that Alex had already assured her that his question wasn’t causing offence, Serena attempted to intervene, only for Alex to cut across her.

 

“A more accurate way to describe Bernie is she’s very experienced for someone with a rank of Major.”  Alex stopped abruptly and pinched her nose, holding it for a few seconds, much to the confusion of both Jason and Serena although neither said anything - Jason because he was sticking to the rule of not asking a new question until the previous one had been answered, and Serena because she wasn’t sure what to ask.  “Sorry, I was stopping a sneeze.”  After letting go of her nose, Alex tentatively wrinkled it a couple of times, making sure the sneeze had gone before she resumed her explanation.  “And she hasn’t always been a Major.”  Alex paused, interested to see what Jason knew about Army rank structures before she continued with her explanation on Bernie’s behalf.

 

“Officers are commissioned with the rank of Second Lieutenant, then are promoted to LIeutenant, then Captain.  Promotion to the rank of Major requires between 8 and 10 years of exemplary service.”  Alex had to smile as she heard him summarise what he had clearly read at some point, as generally, she only came across the phrase ‘exemplary service’ in either Army recruitment information or leaving speeches.  “But Bernie’s older than that.”

 

“Yes she is.  So am I.”  Alex decided to see how he reacted to that piece of information, curious to see if she was considered to be ‘old’ like Bernie or just ‘older’ than him.  

 

“Is it different for Doctors?” asked Jason finally, having given due consideration to this new piece of information.

 

“It can be.  Bernie was commissioned…” Alex did a quick piece of mental arithmetic frustratingly slowly compared to non-concussed days, “more than 20 years ago,” she hedged finally, realising that she wasn’t feeling as confident in her answer as she thought she should be, but not sure which bit of the sum she was fuzzy on.  “And is a very good Officer, so she was promoted to Major…” Alex frowned, trying to remember the details of her lover’s career but finding them just out of reach, so went for a diplomatic, “a good few years before I met her.”

 

“So she’s been a Major for a very long time,” concluded Jason, remembering that Alex had said she met Bernie five years ago.

 

“Yes.”  Alex’s nose twitched again, causing her to pause to see if the sneeze was going to come after all.  If it did, she wasn’t giving a damn about her next dose of painkillers not being due for another couple of hours, she was going to be taking them, as there was no way she would survive what her headache turned into if she experienced the sneeze reflex.  “And no.”

 

“What do you mean?”  Jason couldn’t interpret the ambiguity in Alex’s statement - either Bernie had been a Major for a very long time or she hadn’t.  She couldn’t be both.

 

“Bernie was promoted from the rank of Captain…” Alex was still somewhat pre-occupied with the sneeze that wasn’t, and had therefore completely forgotten about Serena who was in turn, completely absorbed in what she was discovering and had therefore completely forgotten about her F1s.

 

“Which is what you are,” prompted Jason, keeping close track of what he did know.

 

“Which is what I am,” agreed Alex, starting to relax her vigilance about the sneeze, “to the rank of Major a long time before I met her.  But about 3 months after I met her, Major Wolfe was promoted to the rank of Lieutenant Colonel.”

 

“Lieutenant Colonel Wolfe,” Jason thought for a moment, focussing on Alex’s trainers as he did, remembering what he knew about the rank.  “Rank insignia is one Bath Star and one Crown, it is a field officer rank senior to Major and subordinate to Colonel, but the officer is addressed as ‘Colonel’.”  Jason looked at up Alex’s face as he continued, “so why didn’t you call her Colonel Wolfe?”

 

“I did.”  Alex smiled in what she hoped came across as reassuring, inwardly slightly surprised at how much patience she was finding, although a big part of that was she was enjoying the opportunity to talk about Bernie without needing to worry about whether she sounded ‘too keen’.  This was civilian life - this was Bernie she was talking about, her brilliant Bernie and there was no such thing as ‘too keen’.  “And she was a very good Colonel but…”  Alex tried to think of how she could explain the difference between being a Major and a Colonel in a way that would not require her to explain in great detail about the difference ways in which the RAMC provided medical support depending on whether they were in a time of predominantly peaceful deployments or conflict than she currently had energy for.  “Here, in this hospital, both Bernie and Serena are surgeons, yes?”

 

“Yes - they are both consultants, but Auntie Serena has other things she does with Mr Hanssen.”  It was a factually correct statement, meant without malice or insinuation despite how it sounded.

 

“Yes, well…” Serena cleared her throat, attracting Alex’s attention, “...Mr Hanssen is the Chief Executive - I am Deputy CEO in addition to my work as a trauma consultant in AAU.”  In the interests of simplicity and trying to not appear defensive, she refrained from mentioning anything about being clinical lead in AAU and the ambiguity of her position within AAU relative to Bernie’s.

 

“Thanks.”  Alex turned her attention back to Jason, who was busy muttering about having said that already, but he fell silent when he saw Alex looking at him, ready for her to continue her explanation.  “Being a Major is a bit like being just a consultant, but being a Colonel is like being a consultant with other responsibilities.  Bernie wanted to just be a consultant so, she proved she was a very good Colonel then asked to be reduced in rank to Major and go back to just being a very good surgeon.  It…”  Alex felt her nose twitch just in time for her to realise she was about to sneeze but without enough time to do anything other than resign herself to it.  “...Aaaahhh-tisho!”  

 

She managed to move her hand to cover her nose and mouth in time to ‘catch’ the sneeze but the reflex saw her generate enough momentum for her head to loll forwards, restimulating the nausea and dizziness that she’d been steadily managing to push from her mind in the last few hours.  “Ow…” Her groan was as instinctive as shutting her eyes helped the dizziness to be less unsettling, but the drums in her head were now pounding some sort of experimental jazz beat with all the determination of all seven Royal Marine Bands.  Knowing she had no real option other than to let the pounding settle down again, she blinded reached out for the pillow she’d brought with her and used it to make the surface of Bernie’s desk a little more inviting as she rested her head on her forearms.

 

“Out…” whispered Serena forcefully, gesturing for Jason to get out of the office, knowing that Alex would, if undisturbed, probably doze off whilst she waited for the shock of the sneeze to pass.  As great as modern medicine was, sometimes the best medicine was still as straightforward as a snooze.

 

* * *

  
  


“Mmph…” Hearing Alex starting to rouse, Bernie put aside the file she was reviewing.  “Ow!”  Trying to sit up, Alex discovered that her neck was seriously unhappy with the position she’d ended up napping in.  Rubbing her neck, Alex set about sitting up a little more carefully, blinking sleepily as she sat up slowly, not realising that she was also pushing herself away from the desk.

 

“You’re not Jason,” she said finally, blinking again and starting to smile when she realised she was actually awake and looking at her lover.  “Ugh.”  Her smile disappeared.

 

“Head?” guessed Bernie, standing up and moving towards Alex, “or nausea?”

 

“Both…”  Alex leaned back in Bernie’s chair and closed her eyes, trying to concentrate on not being sick.  “And dizzy.”  Unfortunately, whilst the position helped her manage the nausea and keeping her eyes closed sort of helped the dizziness, it only served to highlight how stiff her neck, shoulders and back had become as a result of her clearly prolonged nap.  “Stiff…”

 

“Not surprised,” declared Bernie quietly, her trainers making no noise as she stepped around Alex’s legs and, putting the pillow aside, sat down on the edge of her desk, directly in front of Alex who was still concentrating on not moving and trying not to let the nausea overwhelm her.  “Can you face leaning forwards?” she asked after a moment’s study of how Alex was sitting and what the possible options might be.

 

“What?”  Surprised at how close Bernie sounded, Alex cautiously opened her eyes, relieved that the dizziness didn’t intensify like it had done a moment ago.  “Oh, hello…” she tried to smile as she looked at Bernie through half closed eyes.  Clinically, Bernie could explain away the laid back head position, the heavily lidded eyes, the minimal facial muscle movement and the husky, slightly richer and lower pitched voice.  “You moved.”

 

“Being friendly.”  Bernie shifted her feet so that she was more leaning against the edge of her desk rather than sat on it, confident that there was sufficient weight of paperwork in both her desk drawers and Serena’s on the other side, not to mention the desk weight itself would be enough to stop the desk shifting away from under her.  “Can you lean forward?” 

 

“Bern…” Alex’s expression shifted to show her displeasure at Bernie’s suggestion, before wincing as she felt the Drum Corps start on a new rhythm behind her eyes this time..

 

“Shh…”  Understanding that Alex’s patience and energy reserves were very low, and knowing that there was probably not very long until she would be needed again once Raf had overseen their patient’s transfer through Recovery and to the High Dependency Ward, Bernie reached forwards and gently pulled her desk chair, complete with the adjusted armrests that were inevitable after Alex had sat in it, towards her so that Alex ended up sitting only slightly back from the desk, her legs between Bernie’s.  “Doctor’s orders,” she added helping Alex, who had started to get an idea of what her lover was up to, take off the Holby sweatshirt so she was just wearing the RAMC t-shirt.  Moving slowly and carefully, taking full advantage of her lover’s help, she managed to lean forward until she was effectively giving Bernie’s waist a loose hug, the top of her head resting against Bernie’s stomach, her shoulders and upper arms supported by Bernie’s thighs and her arms resting on the desk.

 

“Bern…” Alex’s protest was token at best as she felt Bernie’s fingers start to stroke her back through the t-shirt as she relaxed into Bernie’s body, her head sort of resting against her lover’s stomach and across her hip.  At first glance, it would look to be horribly uncomfortable, but for Alex it was bliss as she finally had something to rest her head on that felt familiar and wonderful: Bernie’s hip and lap wasn’t as soft as the softest feather pillow, her scrubs weren’t as finely woven cloth as the finest woven cotton bedding, and the gurgling of the hungry surgeon’s stomach wasn’t as tuneful as Ella Fitzgerald or ‘Thought for the Day’, but that was to miss the point.  There were places where Alex could rest in greater material comfort in the hospital, never mind more widely, but there was nowhere she could be and feel as loved  as she felt in Bernie’s arms, and therefore, nowhere she could be and feel better than she currently did.  For whilst her head was still pounding, somehow it was bearable when she could only hear it as a background accompaniment to the faint throb of Bernie’s pulse and the louder, more unpredictable sounds of her stomach gurgling.  Such an audible sound of hunger would ordinarily have no doubt exacerbated her nausea, but even that was becoming more easily ignored as she instead found herself focussing on trying to work out where her lover’s fingers had traced on her back, and where they might be going.

 

“Tell me if it hurts…” Bernie repeated her trace of the invisible centreline of Alex’s back, mentally ticking off the vertebrae as she gently increased the pressure of her fingers from the faintest of touches to first a gentle stroke when she arrived at T12 and the ‘start’ of inferior trapezius.  Keeping her touch delicate rather than brutal, she carefully increased the pressure of her touch as she massaged the tight muscle.

 

“Mmm…” If it were possible for Alex to snuggle even more closely into Bernie, that was exactly what she did as she felt Bernie’s fingers start to help to ease the ache in her back.  “S’nice…”

 

“But?” Although she kept going, working her way up Alex’s back, extending the sweep of her massage as the the expanse of grumpy muscle spread out across the upper thoracic region as the muscle laterally extended in order to ultimately insert into the acromion on the scapula, she eased her pressure slightly in case the ‘but’ was going to be a begrudging admission of pain.

 

“Too soft ‘n’ low…” came the indistinct mumble which Bernie translated as permission to resume her slightly firmer touch again and a demand to tackle her lover’s neck and head.

 

“I can’t do your head Al…” apologised Bernie softly, knowing from experience that the headache that generally accompanied a spasming occipitalis muscle was one of the most unpleasant and intolerable sorts of pain that she’d ever had to endure.  However, there was no way she was going to go exploring around her lover’s occiput to confirm her presumed diagnosis, not after spending hours by Alex’s side willing her to regain consciousness.  But as diagnoses went, she was reasonably confident in it, despite being a ‘mere trauma surgeon’ as Guy Self had put it earlier - it was virtually inevitable given everything Alex had gone through in the last 96 hours or so.  

 

In Bernie’s experience, rarely did a 72 hour Exercise finish without a pounding headache, never mind an Exercise sandwiched neatly between an overnight flight back from Africa and a serious ‘thump on the back of the head’.   However, she was going to do everything she could to persuade the muscles that weren’t in the immediate vicinity of Alex’s haematoma to relax and hopefully, that might be sufficient encouragement for the other muscles to relax a bit too.  “...and neither should you…” chastised Bernie gently, batting away Alex’s hand as she tried to blindly reach around to rub her own head.

 

“Mmph…” Her half-hearted attempt thwarted, Alex put her arm back down, wrapping both arms around Bernie’s waist as she hummed contentedly against her lover’s hip.

 

“Comfy?” 

 

Getting no response from Alex, Bernie was about to worry when she heard the gentle snuffling noise that was the sound of Alex asleep and definitely not snoring.  Relieved, Bernie continued her methodical massage and, in the quiet of the office let her thoughts wander back to a previous office, at the end of a similarly lengthy day….

 

* * *

 

_ “Come in!”  Having issued the order to come into her office, Major Wolfe kept writing, keen to finish her post-op notes whilst the details were still fresh in her mind.  However she wasn’t totally oblivious to what was happening around her, and did register the door opening, the familiar sound of army-boot clad footsteps coming into the room and immediately stopping so that the person could shut the door behind them.  That the footsteps didn’t resume once the door was closed was to be expected: as a consultant clinical lead in a UK hospital, she’d have an office four or five times the size of this cubby hole; on operations, the fact that she had walls and roof made of something that wasn’t canvas and a floor that wasn’t bare earth saw any office space classified as palatial, irrespective of how small the space actually was, and this space was tiny. _

 

_ Sentence completed, she put the paper to one side and looked up, instinctively reaching up to rub her neck as she did so, trying not to wince as stiff and tired muscles protested.  “Sorry about that…” her face twitched, slipping from ‘military professional’ to genuine delight - her stoic expression shifting into a broad grin and her eyes sparkled with amusement before, a split second later she transformed back into ‘Major Wolfe’.  “...Captain Dawson.”  She leant back in her chair, waving the hand that wasn’t still occupied prodding her neck in the universal ‘relax’ gesture that would ordinarily be translated as ‘have a seat and make yourself comfortable’ except for one slight detail - her office was too small to accommodate a visitor’s chair.  “Don’t tell me you’ve finished your reports already?” she asked, not attempting to conceal the groan of dismay when she realised how far behind where she’d hoped to be she actually was. _

 

_ “Sorry Ma’am.”  Although the words were sincere, Alex’s broad grin suggested quite the opposite. _

 

_ “You could look like you weren’t enjoying my agony Captain,” retorted Bernie, wincing when her probing finger found a particularly resistant muscle in her neck. _

 

_ “Did they keep you long?” asked Alex, her tone sober and supportive as she studied her best friend’s face, noticing the tension in her jaw and neck.  It was bad enough that, for one reason or another, they’d been operating almost continuously for the last 18 hours, moving from one case to another.  Like everywhere on Camp at the moment, the operating theatres were hot and stuffy, the air dry and dusty.  They’d only emerged from the operating theatre long enough to pass their patient onto a recovery team, gulp down some water and move onto the next operation.  It had been a grueling marathon of a shift, a marathon that Alex had found exhilarating but exhausting, the wave of adrenalin that had been steadily building as one successful operation followed after another helping to compensate for the mental fatigue that was also accumulating as patient after patient was ‘put under’ and then monitored and managed whilst Major Wolfe did what she did best. _

 

_ “Long enough for you to finish your paperwork before me!”  _

 

_ “And eat,” admitted Alex quietly, knowing that Bernie had therefore probably spent about an hour with the bruised and bloodied soldiers whose team-mate they’d spent the previous seven hours operating on to stabilise and save at a life changing cost to the young man. _

 

_ “Show off…” teased Bernie, not regretting the time she’d taken with her patient’s colleagues, aware that she had perhaps been even less inclined to leave their questions unanswered than she usually was - the post-op updates to Troop Commanders and best friends and bunk mates for her three earlier operations had to be undertaken by her colleagues as she returned to theatre. _

 

_ “I’ll go raid some food for you,” decided Alex, knowing that there wasn’t enough room in this cupboard of an office for Bernie to finish her paperwork without Alex being a distraction.  “Any requests?” _

 

_ “Edible?”  Actually, now she thought about it, Bernie was reasonably confident she would eat shoe leather if it came with enough coffee and water.  “Wet.” _

 

_ “Excuse me?”  Alex blinked, not entirely sure she’d heard what she thought she’d heard. _

 

_ “To eat.”  Bernie’s comment served to only quirk Alex’s eyebrow into an even more quizzical expression, one she’d not seen from the anaesthetist, not even when she’d proposed doing a particular surgery without general anaesthetic one day.  “What I mean is I don’t care as long as it’s not dry toast.”  Bernie licked her lips, trying to moisten them, “and comes with a gallon of coffee.” _

 

_ “Ah, gotcha.  Will see what I can scrounge for you Ma’am.”  Alex came quickly to attention, signalling to Bernie that she really shouldn’t ask what Alex had thought she meant, at least not right this second. _

 

_ “Thank you Captain.”  And, with a grin and a wink, Bernie permitted herself a brief moment to watch Alex execute the appropriately crisp military ‘about face’ before returning to her paperwork. _

  
  
  


_ “And done!”  Triumphantly, Bernie closed the last folder and put it in her out tray, grinning up at Alex who, in the absence of anywhere else to sit, had been perching on the corner of the desk for the last twenty minutes as, her own paperwork now completed, Bernie had been combining her surgeon’s notes with Alex’s anaesthetist’s notes to make the final patient file for each of the operations they’d completed. _

 

_ “Well…” Before Alex could finish congratulating her, the phone on the desk rang, prompting a groan from Bernie as, once more rubbing her neck and shoulder, she picked up the phone. _

 

_ “Major Wolfe.”  Bernie trapped the phone against her ear with the shoulder she wasn’t rubbing, giving her a free hand to reach out and snag Alex’s trouser pocket with, gently hinting that the Captain didn’t have to leave as a result of the phone call.  Understanding, Alex relaxed her posture again and reached for her lover’s hand, tangling their fingers together and moving their joined hands back to the centre of the desk, so Bernie wasn’t stretching so much whilst she listened to whoever it was on the call. _

 

_ “Thank you Sergeant-Major, I’ll wait the storm out in my office.”  Alex’s eyes went wide when she heard Bernie’s comment and glanced at her watch, amazed to see how much time had passed since she went out to find some food and coffee for her. _

 

_ “I’ll advise Captain Dawson, she’s here with me.”  Bernie looked up at Alex and winked, “I think I can cope with the Captain’s company Sergeant-Major, but thank you.  She on the other hand, might be requesting hazard pay.”  Bernie listened some more, her expression changing from relaxed amusement to tension but Alex suspected it was more to do with whatever muscle spasm the surgeon had just found in her neck rather than what the Sergeant-Major was telling her. _

 

_ “Good luck with the rest Sergeant-Major.”  Alex silently took the phone from Bernie and replaced it carefully in the cradle, before looking back at Bernie. _

 

_ “Did you just…” _

 

_ “Get thanked by the ‘Ghost’ for agreeing to share my incredibly cramped office with a junior officer for the next couple of hours rather than requiring transport be found to get us across Camp to our respective quarters in the middle of a sandstorm?” _

 

_ “Incredible,” marvelled Alex, running her thumb over the back of her lover’s hand, tracing the familiar ridges and furrows of the metacarpals.  “And with a straight face too.” _

 

_ “Hardly straight…” countered Bernie, tentatively rolling her shoulders, hoping Alex didn’t notice her poorly concealed wince. _

 

_ “You didn’t notice what you said earlier, did you?” asked Alex who hadn’t missed the wince. _

 

_ “When earlier?” As must as she didn’t want to, Bernie realised she was going to have to let go of her lover’s hand if she wanted to be able to sit up again in her chair without her back objecting, loudly. _

 

_ “When I asked what you wanted to eat…” Alex watched as Bernie looked thoughtful for a moment as she tried to remember what she said. _

 

_ “And I said edible.” _

 

_ “And wet.”  Alex looked pointedly at Bernie, a teasing grin starting to form as she watched, waiting for the moment when… _

 

_ “I didn’t.”  Bingo.  Bernie’s face flushed for a second before being lost within the light pinkness that was a permanent feature of virtually everyone’s cheeks after a couple of days of duty under the Afghan sun.  “I did.”   _

 

_ “Bern?” _

 

_ “Hmm?” Bernie looked up at Alex, almost as if surprised to see her, and therefore totally failed to hide the wince of pain which associated her moving her head. _

 

_ “Stand up.” _

 

_ “We can’t go anywhere, there’s a sandstorm…” _

 

_ “We’re not going anywhere,” agreed Alex, tugging on Bernie’s hand gently, encouraging her to stand up, “but we are moving around a bit.” _

 

_ “Alex…” Bernie really didn’t want to stand up, especially if standing meant moving, because moving meant using her sore and tired neck and back muscles, and that was only going to make her rapidly worsening headache indescribable. _

 

_ “We are going to stand up…” encouraged Alex, shifting their joined hands just enough to enable her to twist her body around and stand without causing Bernie’s arm to move, “so that you can turn around and sit down again,” she explained, carefully walking around the end of the desk, again without causing Bernie to need to move her arm or jostle her sore muscles. _

 

_ “Why would I do that?”  Despite her skepticism, Bernie forced herself carefully to her feet, not liking how the room span as she did so, and grateful for the suddenly firm grasp of her arm that Alex had. _

 

_ “Keep your eyes shut until the dizziness passes Bern…” encouraged Alex, slipping her arm around her lover’s waist, glad that they weren’t in a bit of Camp where they had to wear sidearms.  “There’s no rush.” _

 

_ “I’m fine…” protested Bernie slowly, her natural instinct to resist ‘fuss’ or ‘mollycoddling’ trying to surface despite her discomfort. _

 

_ “I know you are,” agreed Alex, past experience telling her to not bother debating Bernie’s definition of ‘fine’, “and you’re very nice when you’re fine,” continued Alex, ignoring Bernie’s snort of amusement at a statement that few would agree with.  “But you’re positively loveable when you’re tip top.”  As Alex was speaking, she had been gently turning Bernie around, so she was now standing with her back to the desk, although she hadn’t yet opened her eyes. _

 

_ “Would you believe me if I said I was tip top?” Bernie opened her eyes and blinked, the harsh fluorescent tube light adding a sharp needling pain to her already throbbing head. _

 

_ “Not in a million years,” observed Alex, catching hold of the desk chair with her boot and hooking it forwards so it was closer to the desk.  “Sit down Bern…” she encouraged Bernie to move so it was easier to sit backwards on the utilitarian desk chair. _

 

_ “Alex…” Bernie’s weariness and discomfort were evident as she responded to Alex’s gentle guiding to sit but wasn’t understanding what she was up to. _

 

_ “Shh…” Knowing she only had a few seconds before Bernie’s patience started to wane, Alex quickly coaxed Bernie to sit exactly how she wanted her to, with her forearms resting on the top of the chair back and her hips almost hanging off the front of the seat.  Satisfied, she then moved the odd bits and pieces that were still on Bernie’s desk to one side and sat on the desk, her legs either side of Bernie.  “Doctor’s orders,” she added, getting the anticipated groan from Bernie at the gentle dig at not being a ‘doctor’ because she was a surgeon, unlike Alex who, as an anaesthetist, was addressed as such in civilian hospitals. _

 

_ Finally happy that she was perched as comfortably as she could be, Alex instinctively rubbed her hands together to make sure they weren’t chilled, despite the fact it was well over one hundred degrees were there any shade to be found.  Fingers warm and loose, she reached forwards and started to gently run her fingers across the top edge of the sandy brown crew neck t-shirt that they all wore, getting Bernie used to the idea that she was going to be touching the back of her neck. _

 

_ “Al…” Bernie’s protest was token at best. _

 

_ “Tell me if it hurts,” instructed Alex, returning to the invisible centreline of Bernie’s neck and starting to run her fingers up the back of her neck, mentally crossing of the vertebrae as she moved over them….C6….C5…feeling the hardness under her fingertips that wasn’t the vertebrae but the muscles tight and over-worked… C4… _

 

_ “Mmph…” Bernie couldn’t contain the groan that even the light pressure of Alex’s careful fingers caused as she tried not to tense as a tender spot was touched. _

 

_ “Splenius Capitis…” muttered Alex as, hearing Bernie’s groan her fingers paused so she could mentally mark the spot on her lover’s neck that, thanks to the regulation bun Bernie’s hair was miraculously still in, was easily accessible.  “Probably not helped by traps… you ok for me to keep exploring Bern?” she asked quietly, seeking permission to continue her gentle probing. _

 

_ “Yes, but too soft…” grumbled Bernie, knowing that Alex would be able to understand her apparent contradiction correctly. _

 

_ “Patience!” Alex resumed her careful investigation, moving up from C4 to C3… unsurprisingly there was semispinalis capitis as tight as its neighbour splenius capitis...C2...no doubt the rectus capitis posterior major and minor were equally tight underneath.... Whilst she thought about how she might best approach trying to alleviate some of her lover’s agony, Alex continued to apply gentle pressure to the spasming muscles, not so hard as to either hurt Bernie or make her feel light-headed, but more firmly than she had been when just investigating.  “Bern?” _

 

_ “Mmm?” Bernie’s earlier groan of frustration tinged discomfort was starting to change to something more accurately described as a moan of contentment with a hint of suspicion that she was about to be asked something that interrupted her hedonism. _

 

_ “How do you feel about taking off your t-shirt and leaning back?”  Alex could feel Bernie’s instinctive anxiety at her question through her fingers as the Major tensed, before relaxing again a moment later when she remembered that they were currently trapped in this little office, and that the sandstorm that was keeping them pinned down was also keeping the Ghost pinned down elsewhere. _

 

_ “Help?” asked Bernie, already starting to lean back, not remotely clear what Alex was planning but trusting her implicitly, even if the thought of trying to take her t-shirt off was making her wince in anticipation of the protests from her weary muscles. _

 

_ “Always…” Removing her hands from Bernie’s neck, Alex reached forwards and pulled the t-shirt from the waistband of Bernie’s trousers, before slipping her hands underneath the fabric and resting her hands on her lover’s warm skin, resisting the urge to conduct another test in her on-going experiment to prove that Bernie really was ticklish. _

 

_ Raising her arms as high as she could face, Bernie closed her eyes again and just focussed on her lover’s hands as they skimmed up the sides of her ribs, lifting the t-shirt up and finally off her body, creating the glorious split second moment when her skin felt cool as the warm air of her office came into direct contact with her chest and stomach for the first time.  Unfortunately, not only did it not last, but as her arms slumped like deadweights back her sides, Bernie became conscious once again of the pounding of her head and aching in her muscles as, without Alex’s touch, she had nothing to distract her from her discomfort, which, now she thought about it, included a tight restrictive band around her ribs.  “Bra…” she muttered, hoping Alex got the hint. _

 

_ “Ok…” Alex put Bernie’s t-shirt on the desk next to her and returned her attention to Bernie’s bra, running her fingers over the straps on her shoulders and feeling the band around her chest, initially thinking Bernie’s request was for her to straighten out a twisted strap, only to realise that wasn’t the question.  “You sure?  I mean I won’t say no…” Alex reinforced her flirtatious intent by dropping a brief kiss onto Bernie’s shoulder, deliberately kissing a mixture of bare shoulder and cotton bra strap, “but I can work around it,” she added seriously, knowing that if this were a more clinical setting and a more formal treatment, there would be no need for Bernie to be braless. _

 

_ “Off…” insisted Bernie, starting to lean back again, trusting that Alex would stop her when she’d arrived at wherever it was Alex wanted her, the pounding in her head combining with the hours of intense concentration and the oppressive heat to leave her exhausted and increasingly sluggish.  “Thanks…” she mumbled, feeling the faint pressure of Alex’s fingers against the centre of her back, a brief advance warning that the tight band was easing around her ribs as, bra unfastened, she felt her breasts shift and a weight lift from her shoulders. _

 

_ “Lean back a bit more? Use me as a back rest…” coaxed Alex quietly, lifting one of her feet from the floor and resting it on the seat of Bernie’s chair, next to her hip, so the surgeon could use her knee and thigh as a handhold and general reassurance that she was leaning back into something.  “Ok?” she asked finally, looking down at Bernie’s face, her head now resting against Alex’s stomach, her back supported by Alex’s legs, the discarded bra lying forgotten about in front of her on the chair seat. _

 

_ “Belt…” Bernie tilted her head forward, allowing Alex to see that yes, her stable belt clasp was going to be digging in unless she unfastened it, which she did.  Before Bernie could lean back, Alex also unfastened her trousers, pulling them open so that the zip and fasteners didn’t dig in either.  “Better…” mumbled Bernie, settling back against her lover’s now much softer stomach.  “Now what?” _

 

_ “Now I try to make you feel good…” said Alex, using her left hand to trace a line along Bernie’s shoulder and, almost caressingly, trail up the side of her neck until she found where she was feeling for and pressed ever so gently.  “Ok?” she asked quietly, unable to stop the smile that formed when she looked down and saw Bernie’s eyes close and her face transform into what could best be described as ‘blissed out’. _

 

_ “Mmm…what is that?” asked Bernie, surprised at how immediate the impact of Alex’s talented fingers was. _

 

_ “That’s your Sternocleido-mastoid muscle…” explained Alex, inwardly cheering that she’d finally bested Bernie in an anatomy knowledge competition with the muscle that ran up the side of the neck into the underside of the jaw. _

 

_ “Don’t stop…” _

 

_ “I’ve barely begun…” promised Alex, shifting her fingers slightly so she was now lightly pressing a different spot, taking care to keep her touch light whilst also marvelling at how calm Bernie was - it was an incredibly vulnerable position, head angled back, allowing Alex to press into the side of her throat and not something that could be done without a lot of trust and faith… it was, realised Alex suddenly, a tangible and instinctive display of Bernie’s love for her.  “I love you…” She winced when she realised she’d blurted it out just like that, but judging by Bernie’s relaxed expression and soft hum, it hadn’t bothered Bernie. _

 

_ “I love you too…” mumbled Bernie, settling even more deeply into Alex’s body, “...but you still can’t stop…” _

 

_ “I won’t…” _

 

* * *

 

 

“Fletch? Everything ok?” Serena came up behind the Charge Nurse and looked at him.

 

“What? Yeah…” He looked away from her back into her office, prompting her to follow his gaze.

 

“Problem?” she asked finally, not prepared to think it was what it looked like.

 

“Message for Ms Wolfe…” he looked back at Serena, seeing her frowning at him.  “Wait, no…” He held his hands up in an attempt to reassure her, “no, nothing like that!”

 

“So why have you been standing here for five minutes then?” asked Serena, looking back at Bernie, sat on the edge of her desk, holding Alex gently in her lap.  The dim light and half closed blinds across the window made it hard for her to see her fellow consultant’s expression, but it was clear from what she could see that Bernie was looking far more relaxed and calm than Serena thought she’d ever seen her before.  If there had been any doubt in what the consultant felt for the anaesthetist, this would have surely been the moment that those doubts were banished.  “Unless…” Serena thought for a moment, scarcely believing that she was daring to think that he would have an issue with a relationship between two women.

 

“What? No!”  Fletch looked at her in horror.  “How could you think… no.”  He shook his head at her half thought, wanting to dismiss it before she’d finished thinking it.  “Dr D’s asleep.  I don’t want to wake her by going in, but Ms Wolfe’s not looked this way.  I’ve been tapping on the window but I think she’s in a bit of a daydream.”

 

“Oh.  I see.”  Fletch gave her a look that suggested he didn’t quite believe her.  “When did Alex become Dr D?”

 

Before Fletch could explain, both he and Serena were startled by the sound of a quiet thump and louder clatter of the blind as something was thrown against the window in front of them, prompting them to look back into the office where Bernie was now looking straight at them, smirking as she motioned for them to come into the office.

 

“What on…” Serena stood in the open doorway, looking at the window and then back to Bernie.

 

“Just the sweatshirt.  I tried throwing a screwed up paper ball, but you were too absorbed in your conversation.”  Bernie looked from Fletch to Serena, trying to work out who might be wanting her.  “You wanted me?”

 

“Uh…”

 

“No need to whisper Fletch, she’s a good sleeper…” said Bernie, looking down at Alex fondly, taking a moment to brush a stray hair back out of her eyes, causing Alex to stop snuffling for a moment before she settled again.  “Very good sleeper.”  That and Bernie doubted their voices would be particularly loud over the grumbling of her stomach that Alex had managed to sleep through for, judging by a glance at the clock over the door, the last half hour or so.

 

“Message from Mr di Lucca, you’re needed to sign off the patient in the HDU - he’s tried but…”

 

“Understood.”  Bernie looked at Serena, “did you want me for something first?”

 

“What? No, just passing…”  Serena looked sheepish when she realised how silly that sounded, something Bernie had also picked up on judging by her rather amused look.  “I was just passing, and Fletch was stood like a statute…”

 

“Fletch?  Everything ok?” Bernie was confused - she’d not seen Fletch through the glass as… “Wait, was that you stood outside tapping the glass?”

 

“Yeah, but…” He was confused, if she’d seen and heard him, why hadn’t she responded.

 

“I couldn’t see you.”  Bernie nodded in the direction of the glass.  “You were lined up with my reflection - I thought the tapping was outside.  I only saw Serena standing next to you.”

 

“Ah, sorry.  I saw Dr D was asleep…” he nodded towards Alex, still sprawled comfortably in Bernie’s lap, proving Bernie was absolutely right - she  _ was  _ a good sleeper.

 

“Dr D?” Bernie looked amused at the nickname as she slipped her hand down to Alex’s waist and tickled her gently, deciding it was the least unkind way of rousing Alex given recent events.

 

“Mmph..” Half asleep, Alex reached out to try and bat away whatever was tickling her, not wanting to wake up.

 

“Wake up Al…” insisted Bernie, “...the Ghost is coming.”  There were four reliable ways of getting Alex to awaken quickly (by Alex’s standards) if the tickling didn’t work - two of them Bernie dismissed as cruel (she was neither shouting ‘Captain Dawson’ nor was she mimicking the MERT scramble call) and the third was ill-advised (without knowing how Alex’s nausea was doing, wafting a cup of good strong coffee under her nose was out of the question), which just left her with the threat of the Ghost.

 

“I’m awake,” muttered Alex, pushing herself upright although she was clearly still half asleep.

 

“Ghost?”  Serena didn’t think Holby was haunted, and nor did she think she believed Alex was afraid of spirits.

 

“A particularly stealthy Sergeant-Major who would delight in silently appearing when he wasn’t wanted.  Mr Hanssen shares the habit.”

 

“Bern?”  Blinking to help clear her head a bit, Alex adjusted to being upright and awake again and spotted Serena and Fletch.  “Oh, hi.”

 

“I need to go visit my patient in HDU, then how about we go home?” suggested Bernie, only just resisting the urge to grab the pen light from Fletch’s shirt and check Alex’s eyes were still clear and properly responsive.

 

“Before or after you give me that neuro-check?” asked Alex, not fooled for one moment, but then she wasn’t really surprised - she’d had the same idea before deciding Serena would probably not see the funny side.

 

“I think you’re doing fine.”  Bernie stood up, trying not to outwardly show how painful she was finding the sudden pins and needles sensation she was getting in both legs as her body adjusted to not having Alex’s weight draped across her thighs.  “I’ll be back as quick as I can,” she promised, leaning forwards and without any indication of being in the slightest bit self conscious, kissing Alex tenderly.  “Ok?”

 

“Ok…” Alex watched Bernie straighten up, “Bern?”

 

“Hmm?”

 

“New scrubs…”  At Bernie’s puzzled look, Alex looked pointedly at her hip, “..I dribbled…” she explained, drawing both Serena and Fletch’s attention to the obvious damp patch on Bernie’s scrubs where she’d rested her head during her sleep.

 

“Thanks.”  And with a final wink and a smile, Bernie left the office, heading for the HDU via the locker room and her fifth set of scrubs since coming to work, Fletch hot on her heels as he headed for the phone to let Raf know she was on her way.

 

“Umm…” Serena stood awkwardly, realising she’d stayed too long to leave without talking to Alex but didn’t actually know what to say.

 

“How’s Jason?” Alex decided it was probably best to just start a conversation, and Jason seemed like a reasonably safe topic.

 

“He’s in the coffee shop, reading the Queen’s Regulations.”  Serena managed to unstick her feet from the floor and, remembering this was her office too, moved over to sit at her desk.  “And I think he said something about Guides for Junior Officers or something…” she shook her head, a faint smile on her face, “...he’s very good at finding stuff on the internet.”

 

“I’m sorry.”

 

“What for?” Confused, Serena looked up at Alex, wondering if she was about to reveal some random former career as organiser of the internet or something.

 

“Starting him off on the Army?”  Alex tentatively moved her shoulders, looking a bit quizzical when she found herself anticipating a stiffness that wasn’t there, before noticing that her headache was, whilst still there, was much fainter and comprised only one drum corps now, rather than the massed bands she’d been enduring before her sleep.

 

“Nothing to apologise for.”   Serena straightened a file or two on her desk whilst she gathered her thoughts.  “He picks up topics to read about from the smallest of suggestions.  Last week it was the history of the Lego Brick.”

 

“The name derives from the Danish for ‘play well’...” Alex ‘felt’ Serena’s glare before she’d focussed on the consultant across the two desks.  “Sorry.  I…” She’d intended to explain why she knew that random fact, only to realise she actually had no idea where she’d picked up that particular piece of knowledge.  “Have no idea how I know that.”

 

“Just be prepared for questions,” warned Serena, her expression softening when she saw Alex looked genuinely surprised at her spontaneous display of Lego knowledge.  “He’ll be cross examining you on regimental history and military protocol if you give him half a chance.”

 

“Ah.”  Alex wasn’t quite sure how to continue the conversation, as her immediate thought was to wonder why Jason was only now tackling the British Army as a reading topic, especially as she was sure Bernie had mentioned he was one of the people who had often addressed her by  _ a _ rank but never managed to use her  _ actual  _ rank.

 

“Actually, I think he’s already wondering if you have swords…”

 

“Yes.  Sometimes.” For the second time in as many minutes, Alex found herself on the receiving end of Serena’s ‘consultant’s look’, only just remembering that she wasn’t actually talking to Serena in a professional capacity.

 

“Dare I ask?”

 

“It depends what uniform we’re wearing…” Alex tried to think how best to describe the uniform so Serena would picture it without feeling insulted but realised her headache wasn’t quite as absent as she’d first hoped.  “Not with combat dress.”

 

“The khaki patterned stuff?”

 

“Yes.  Well, no.”  Alex automatically tucked her hair tidily behind her ear again so it was out of her eyeline.  “It’s not really khaki anymore…”  She was getting a pretty good demonstration of Serena’s range of pointed looks that weren’t quite glares, but weren’t exactly friendly either.  “We don’t wear swords with the patterned uniforms, which are combat dress.”  She felt the energy boost she’d received from the triple gift of some sleep, some time with Bernie and a back rub starting to fade.  “Bernie’s better at explaining it all…” she hedged, wondering if Serena would get the hint before they got too caught up in the minutiae of Army Dress Regulations.

 

“I’m sorry…” Serena was embarrassed when she realised she’d been starting her own cross-examination, “...some Doctor I am.”  She looked at Alex thoughtfully.  “How are you feeling?”

 

“You discharged me, remember?” Alex tried to sound amused rather than defensive, but she was feeling fine, ok, not fine, but certainly not anything that some more sleep, food and Bernie couldn't solve, not necessarily in that order or equal quantity.

 

“Is this where you remind me you’re a big macho army doctor too?”  Serena relaxed back in her chair and smirked, clearly amused by a memory.

 

“Is that what you call Bern?”  Alex was intrigued, and was finding that she had some energy left if she wasn’t being gently interrogated.

 

“Occasionally.”  Serena’s smirk became a frown.  “I still say she let me win…”

 

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.  Win at what?”  Alex wasn’t entirely sure she wanted to know what had happened such that Serena was thinking about her lover in those terms, although it was hardly a surprise that the two surgeons had been competitive.

 

“Arm wrestling.  Hasn’t she told you this?  It happened ages ago, before the…”  Serena’s sudden clamming up was a big enough clue for Alex despite her limited energies.

 

“The divorce?  We, uh, have had a fair bit to catch up on.”  Alex focussed on straightening the hem of her t-shirt, the Holby sweatshirt she’d been wearing before her nap on Bernie was on the floor, although she didn’t know how it had got there, distinctly remembering putting it on the desk when she took it off.  “Why were you arm wrestling?” she asked, standing up and, after taking a moment to find her balance, taking the couple of steps necessary to be able to pick up the sweatshirt.  Giving it a light shake, she pulled it on, feeling immediately better once her bare arms were covered.

 

“Bernie threw it at the window, the sweatshirt I mean,” clarified Serena, watching Alex’s careful movements for any indication that all was not as it should be in her movements.  “She saw Fletch and me hovering outside - we didn’t want to wake you.”  Serena cleared her throat as she waited for Alex to sit down again.  “It was certainly one way to get our attention.”

 

“She normally goes for paper cups,” volunteered Alex, thinking of all the times she’d seen Bernie use various random items to attract attention without having to raise her voice which, unusually for senior officers in Alex’s experience, was something she generally didn’t do, which invariably meant that when Major Wolfe  _ had  _ shouted, people paid attention.  “Arm wrestling?” she prompted, sensing that she was about to be on the receiving end of more questions if she didn’t get in with hers first.

 

“It was to decide who operated… I should probably start at the beginning…”

 

* * *

  
  


“Scrambled eggs.”

 

“And ketchup?” asked Bernie, looking across the locker room at her lover who was leaning against the wall, a lazy grin on her face.

 

“Of course.”  Alex stuck her tongue out at Bernie when she saw her lover shaking her head in mock despair.  “There’s no other way to have them!”

 

“If you say so…” Trousers fastened, Bernie pulled off her scrub shirt and reached into her locker for her black shirt.  “Is this your way of telling me you’re through the nausea?” With her left arm through the sleeve of the shirt, Bernie turned to look at Alex, reaching behind her for the other sleeve as she moved.

 

“Maybe…what’s that?” Alex’s question was asked sharply as something caught her eye.

 

“What’s what?”  Needing more hints from Alex since she’d been concentrating on catching her errant sleeve, Bernie had been preoccupied but now she had her shirt on, she was preparing to give Alex her full attention.  Buttons could wait.

 

“There, on your chest…”  As Alex waved her hand in Bernie’s objection, Bernie stiffened as she suddenly felt her stomach clench so tightly she almost wanted to double over in pain.  Surely Alex hadn’t...no…

 

“Bern?”  In three steps, taken at a speed that was all the more remarkable given how fragile Alex was still feeling, she was stood in front of the surgeon.  “What’s wrong?”  She wanted to pull Bernie into her arms and attempt to provide as much comfort and reassurance as the blonde had provided to her in the recent hours and weeks, but uncertainty as to what was causing Bernie’s eyes to be watering and her shoulders to tense was holding Alex back.  “What have I done?”

 

“What mark on my chest?” Bernie’s voice was hoarse and quiet, barely louder than a whisper as she tried to hold her emotions in check.

 

“That one…” Confused, Alex tentatively reached out and gently touched the red oval that was on her lover’s chest, an inch or so below the ridge of her right clavicle, roughly directly above the centreline of her breast.

 

As her fingers touched the mark, not only did Alex feel that it wasn’t a lump or raised rash, but she also felt Bernie slump in what she presumed was relief of some kind.  Totally confused, Alex reacted purely on instinct and pulled Bernie into her arms and held her as tightly as she could, trying to convey as much love and strength as she could to the blonde.  

 

“I’m sorry…” mumbled Bernie, her words muffled by Alex’s t-shirt.

 

“Hey…” Alex relaxed her hug just enough for Bernie to be able to lean back far enough to look at her if she wanted to, “...nothing to be sorry about.”  Alex felt Bernie’s head shifting against her shoulder, suggesting her words were having some effect.  “It’s been a long day for me, and I don’t remember half of it…” What had intended to be a teasing joke, not dissimilar to the various jokes that had got them through the longest of days during the darkest hours of military conflicts during their career together evidently backfired, as rather than feeling Bernie’s body continue to relax, Alex felt her lover tense up again.  “Bern?  Talk to me…” 

 

“My chest…” muttered Bernie, holding onto Alex tightly, not lifting up her head, making it hard for Alex to understand what she was saying.

 

“Show me?” asked Alex, still not following what Bernie was talking about, but wanting to understand quickly as she hated seeing Bernie like this, and hated even more that she was the one who had caused it.

 

“I…”  Bernie let go of Alex and took a half shuffled step back, creating just enough space between them that Alex could see her front, her straightforward M&S bra a stark contrast to her flushed skin and black unbuttoned shirt.  “...you asked about a mark…” began Bernie, her cheeks wet with the tears that were running down her face unchecked, “...on my chest…”

 

“This one…” agreed Alex, reaching up and lightly stroking the same spot she’d touched before, her fingertips watched by Bernie.

 

“And then you said you couldn’t remember…”  Bernie looked up from Alex’s fingertips to her eyes and that was when Alex saw what Bernie couldn’t say, what was terrifying her.

 

“You thought I’d forgotten about…” Still struggling with nightmares, and not yet comfortable talking about the the IED explosion, Alex reached out with her other hand and gently traced the red line on her lover’s sternum that was a very visual reminder of the vital surgery that had saved her life.

 

“Silly…”

 

“Not silly…” corrected Alex, her own eyes watering, “not silly at all…” 

 

Alex traced the scar again, not needing to look to know where it started, which was surprisingly low down on Bernie’s sternum, although it made more sense once she’d understood that they’d been trying to complete the C5/6 stabilisation whilst monitoring the pseudoaneurysm.  It wasn’t the conventional way to approach open heart surgery, but it had made sense given what Alex knew about the various risks involved in the potential options the surgical team would have had, not to mention Bernie’s own opinions.  Alex had been in theatre with Bernie often enough to know that she would often entertain what seemed at first listen to be borderline crazy plans, but they were never reckless - Bernie’s ability to prioritise and juggle multiple major surgeries within the same patient were second to none.  

 

“Al?”  It was Bernie who broke the silence between them, wondering where Alex’s thoughts had drifted to.

 

“I’m ok…” promised Alex, her lips twitching into a smile as her fingers shifted from tracing the surgical scar that ran down Bernie’s chest just resting gently over Bernie’s heart, her hand picking up the faint throbbing pulse.  “Just remembering…”

 

“Something good?” asked Bernie, trying not to let her thoughts drift to the last time she and Alex were in a Holby locker room, a couple of floors up.

 

“Bastion?” Alex’s smile broadened into a grin as she waited for Bernie to catch up with her.  “That day I’d been on MERT and you’d been operating all day?”

 

“That doesn’t narrow it down that much…” began Bernie, looking quizzically at Alex, relieved that they were recovering from their unexpected ‘moment’.

 

“No?”  Alex’s grin transformed into a smirk as she moved her hand from resting ‘innocently’ on Bernie’s chest to cupping her breast, the palm of her hand teasing the hardening nipple as long fingers started a sensual massage through the off-white embroidered cotton.

 

“Ah…” Bernie’s hands instinctively moved forwards and found Alex’s hips, “...I remember now…” she agreed, trying to resist the urge to pull Alex into a tight embrace and show her how much she loved her then and there… “What made you think of it?” she asked, trying to sound nonchalant and unaffected by Alex’s proximity and attentions.

 

“You mean aside from it being a very good memory?” asked Alex huskily, leaning in and trailing kisses down the side of Bernie’s throat (Sternocleido-mastoid muscle, her old friend that she always remembered and Bernie usually  forgot), her teeth lightly grazing the skin only to be immediately soothed by lips and tongue.

 

“Aside from that,” agreed Bernie, slipping her hands inside the waistband of the scrub trousers Alex was wearing and lazily circling the base of her spine, gently coaxing Alex’s hips towards her.

 

“Let me think…” teased Alex, leaning back with her upper body as she allowed her hips to be pulled flush to Bernie’s own, the thin scrub material doing little to mask the warmth of Bernie’s body.

 

“With visual aids apparently…” grumbled Bernie, frustrated that although her hands  were able to touch Alex, the lithe brunette had moved tantalisingly out of kissing range, aware that as long as her shirt remained unbuttoned she was putting on something of a show, although the quite what sort of show it was she wasn’t entirely certain, what with the surgical scar from her heart surgery and the ravages that two not entirely straightforward pregnancies had left.

 

“Stop it.”

 

“Stop what?” Confused, Bernie’s hands stilled and she caught her lower lip in her teeth as she tried to work out what she’d done wrong now.

 

“Not that…” Alex arched her back, drawing Bernie’s attention to her stilled hands which obligingly took the hint and resumed their massaging a little lower than before.  “You were thinking…” explained Alex, her right hand remaining at Bernie’s breast whilst she trailed her left hand from the still unexplained red mark just below Bernie’s right clavicle, across to her sternum, featherlight fingers teasing down the line of the heart surgery incision, skipping over the bra and trailing down her lover’s smooth stomach, pausing to tickle Bernie’s belly button before finally settling on her hip, fingers instinctively slipping inside the waistband of Bernie’s black trousers.

 

“Occupational hazard,” joked Bernie, trying to maintain some sort of semblance of control and pay attention to what Alex was saying.

 

“Stop thinking you’re scarred and old…”

 

“But…” Bernie’s protestations that she was in possession of more scars than ever before, and that she was some years older than Alex were cut off by Alex’s glare which, although rarely seen, was mightily impressive.

 

“Do you remember that day? In Bastion?”

 

“Hmm?”  Bernie’s thoughts were still caught up in doubts about what Alex could possibly see in a woman almost ten years her senior with scars and stretch marks and more baggage than an entire Aid convoy, only to be refocused by Alex’s cheeky tweak to her nipple.  “Hey!”  She retaliated with a pinch of her own, although it had done the trick.  “I remember you coming to find me in the locker room…” agreed Bernie, smiling at the memory as Alex had known she would.  “Why that particular day?”

 

“You were stood in front of your locker, just like this…” 

 

“Not exactly…” Bernie tore her eyes away from Alex’s to glance down at her shirt colour.  “Black wasn’t in my wardrobe then…and you weren’t wearing scrubs…” Bernie emphasised her point, about scrub trousers being cut with a little more give in the waistband than their combat uniform trousers.

 

“And you looked so tired…” continued Alex, electing to ignore her lover’s pedantry in favour of trying to finish her point, “...but also so alive…” Alex moved her right hand up to trace Bernie’s cheekbone and jaw, her voice barely above a whisper, “...so beautiful… I felt...” Alex’s voice faded in her throat as she found the words she was going to use were inadequate.

 

“I felt it too…” Bernie’s smile was crooked, like each side of her mouth had independently decided to smile but couldn’t agree how much to, caught between shyness and joyfulness.  “You were dusty, and dirty and so tired I could feel the adrenalin that was keeping you standing…” agreed Bernie, “but you looked at me and... “ Bernie turned her head and pressed a kiss to the inside of Alex’s wrist, “...I don’t know how to explain it.”

 

“That makes two of us…” agreed Alex, relieved that even if she didn’t entirely understand herself, she wasn’t alone in her not entirely understanding.

 

“I love you, so very much.” 

 

“I know you do…” Alex looked at Bernie, seeing everything she felt reflected back at her in Bernie’s own gaze, “and I love you too…” Alex kissed Bernie’s lips softly, “...so very, very much…”

 

They stood together, each drawing strength and comfort from the other’s embrace for a long, timeless moment, content to just be in the other’s hold, enjoying the stillness and savouring the peacefulness of the moment after a draining and exhausting day that had come too quickly after their weeks apart, weeks that had been all the more agonising because they were so very recently reunited and still in the process of having faith that their repaired relationship would hold.  Were it not for the distant wail of an ambulance siren as it approached the ED with a new patient and the sudden loud voices of a group of people moving through the corridor, they might have stayed like that for longer.

 

“Home?” asked Bernie quietly, tucking the inevitable strand of hair that had settled against Alex’s nose behind her ear.

 

“Yes.” Alex couldn’t stop the yawn that followed, her latest burst of energy fading fast.  “But after you’ve finished getting dressed?” she suggested, finding enough energy to step back from Bernie, putting enough distance between them for her lover to finish dressing.

 

“That’s another difference…” joked Bernie, quickly buttoning up her shirt, her overheated skin cooling rapidly once she no longer had the warming effect of Alex’s body.

 

“To Bastion?  Going home you mean?”

 

“Mmm, but I actually meant letting me finish getting dressed,” remarked Bernie, looking pointedly at Alex who blushed at the memory.

 

“I gave you one of my shirts…” she protested, buying time whilst she considered what details to point out by way of counter-tease.  “And I wasn’t the one whose locker ended up dented…”

 

“I wasn’t the one who dented it!” Shirt buttoned, Bernie shut her locker door and turned to pick up her coat and bag which were already on the bench, eager to head home.

 

“I wouldn’t have dented it if you hadn’t…” Alex trailed off as the door opened and a staff member she didn’t know came in.

 

“Yes, well…” Bernie returned her colleague’s nod of greeting, not knowing the doctor by name, only by sight.  “Shall we?” she asked, looking at Alex and tilting her head towards the door, eager to leave the locker room because, now she thought about it, she was exhausted and despite all her naps, Alex wasn’t going to be much better.

 

“Mmm…” Alex hummed her agreement and followed Bernie out of the locker room, nodding at the unknown doctor as she passed.  “You’re not driving.”

 

“No, I thought a taxi…” agreed Bernie, recalling that despite everything else, it had been rather convenient at Bastion, being able to leave the hospital and get back to her quarters (basic as they were) in a matter of minutes, with food always available from one of the Messes or NAAFI if she was hungry.  

 

“And scrambled eggs,” demanded Alex suddenly, her stomach rumbling most impressively, as if knowing Bernie had been thinking about food.

 

“With ketchup, I remember,” laughed Bernie, tucking her hand into Alex’s elbow to better guide her through the corridors and down the stairs so they exited the hospital by the main entrance, where the taxi rank was, neatly avoiding having to use the lift that would take them through AAU and another ‘could you look at this Ms Wolfe?’ request.  “Why do I remember fireworks?”

 

“When?”

 

“That night, morning… whatever time it was,” Bernie realised she’d always assumed that moment in the locker room in Bastion had happened late at night because it had been at the end of a very long series of operations for her and a 24 hour MERT duty shift for Alex, when she’d been the anaesthetist on call as part of the Medical Emergency Response Team who could, at 5 minutes notice, be ready to head outside the wire to retrieve critically wounded personnel.  But, now she thought about it, she wasn’t sure what time of day or night it had actually been.

 

“Just after dawn…” Alex knew this was theoretically an opportunity to make a joke about how the sex was just that good, but it didn’t feel right, wasn’t their sort of joke, so she went with the truth instead, which was rather more deadly, “...and it was a rocket attack, on the far side of Camp.”

 

“Of course…” They stepped outside the hospital and Bernie looked around, surprised to see it was dark, but the sort of dark that was a wet and stormy English early morning.  “And no taxis…” she muttered, realising that where she’d assumed there would be four or five parked up there was none.

 

“Here’s one!” exclaimed Alex, gesturing to the vehicle that was approaching, preparing to head out into the rain to get into it, relieved that it had arrived before Bernie could feel like she needed to drive despite her tiredness - no matter how ‘fine’ Alex felt, they both knew she shouldn’t try driving just yet, not while she was fatigued from her thump on the head.

 

Together they splashed through the wet, not caring if they trod in puddles or bothering to cover their heads in the downpour, their focus solely on making sure they were first to the taxi and escaped the hospital.  Opening the back door of the taxi for Alex, Bernie told the driver through his open window where she lived whilst Alex got inside and shifted over to the far side, so Bernie didn’t need to go around the car and get even wetter.  Satisfied the driver knew where she wanted to go, Bernie moved around the door and put her foot in the car, only to pause when she saw a flash..

 

“Bern?”  Alex leaned across the seat so she could see out through the open door at her.  “Was that…”

 

“Lightning.” Bernie got inside the car and shut the door firmly, not particularly surprised when the driver immediately set off, his windscreen wipers on maximum.  Anything he might have wanted to say about either her dithering or the fact that Alex had immediately grabbed her hand and pulled her across the seat a bit so that they were sat next to each other rather than on the far sides of the car was drowned out by a loud bang and echoing rumble.  “And thunder…”

 

“Not rockets.”

 

“Not rockets,” agreed Bernie, pushing the wet strands of hair back off Alex’s forehead.  “Nap?” she suggested, noticing that Alex’s attempts to conceal her yawns were becoming more and more frequent and less and less successful.  “I’ll wake you up when we get home…”

 

“Home…” mumbled Alex, already snuggling up against Bernie’s inviting shoulder and giving in to sleep now she was sat down again.  “I’m already there…” Her voice was thick with sleep, her words slurred and muffled, half mumbled into Bernie’s coat covered shoulder, but they were distinct enough and clear enough for Bernie to hear.

 

“Me too…” agreed Bernie, watching as Alex nodded off, not quite believing that she wasn’t dreaming herself, that this moment, which had felt so far away during the dark days of the divorce and long, lonely hours with only her thoughts and regrets to keep her company as she lay awake, wondering if she’d ever be able to hold Alex again, to tell her properly what she meant to her, how she made her feel… this moment which so nearly wasn’t, after all they’d gone through to be able to be together again, all they were going through, together, to make sure these moments continued… “Home with my hero…”

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading, I hope you enjoyed it.


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